


Exorcism

by Midknite



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Anal Sex, Canon Compliant, M/M, PWP, Thiefshipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-11-05 23:01:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11023413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Midknite/pseuds/Midknite
Summary: He had been possessed for millennia, and he could hear the demon's cries within, only one person would silence such torture.





	Exorcism

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThatRandomFan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatRandomFan/gifts).



> Special thanks to ChaosRocket, for being the beta reader and fix everything wrong with the transation of this one.
> 
> This was a very old oneshot I made years ago. I never thought someone would want to try to read this in Spanish but apparently ThatRandomFan was the brave one. I hope it's up your expectations.
> 
> As always,thanks for reading and I hope I can post something else soon!

He was outside Marik's window. The boy was sleeping peacefully on a pillow that looked about as silly as it possibly could. Who would have guessed that the head of a Duel Monsters Mafia would like pillow covers with frills?

Bakura, with his scathing nature, had plenty of witty comments in mind that he could make when his ex-partner woke up, but he wasn’t here for that.

_ Kill him. _

No.

Something dark lived within him; he felt its sharp claws on his throat, its heartbeat throbbing at the tips of his fingers.

_ He betrayed you. He betrayed us. Kill him. _

Bakura laughed, imagining that stupid-looking pillow covered in blood.

Marik had betrayed him, and yet everything had ended up going in accordance with Bakura's plans regardless. He saw no point in bothering to blame the boy when everything was on track. However, it was annoying that Marik had surrendered to the goddamn Pharaoh; he never thought that Marik's desires for revenge, so similar to his own, would fade away so quickly.

_ He does not deserve to live; he is just another mortal. They all will perish; he will perish. _

The whispers were strident; they hurt his ears and reverberated in his gut. That unpleasant inner pollution was what clouded his judgment so frequently.

The crowd within a single body suffocated him. They all had a word to say- his old soul, and the unlucky boy who had been possessed by a cursed fate, and the dark entity that howled constantly. Who was he? A bandit with a tragic and largely forgotten past? A demon? A combination of both? He felt nauseous for a moment.

He did not remember his name, if he'd had one. History and mankind had erased him from the face of the earth; there was only an ancient and eroded tragedy left, like the old Egyptian limestones.

The outer world was no better, just a mass of human beings who were worthless. No one was his equal; no one was on his level...at least, that was how it had been until Marik had arrived.

His fingers tapped on the window.

Marik jolted and then stood up, staring at the window as he walked towards him. He reached out and unlocked it. His expression was more one of weariness than surprise.

"You don’t look astonished to see me."

"Why should I be? You're like a cockroach; nothing could get rid of you, let alone something as vile as my second personality. "

Then the scoundrel knew Marik was really alive and that he had decided to hand over the Millennium Ring and Rod to his enemy.

"What are you doing in Egypt? I seriously doubt that you’ve just come to make peace with me," Marik said.

"The Pharaoh came here as well, didn't he?"

Marik inhaled deeply. "That's right, so my siblings and I are going to be the guides of  _ his excellence _ ."

His ironic tone gave a sort of relief to the spirit.

_ Kill him. He is a servant of Pharaoh; he hid the secret of his memories. _

"Show me the key."

Marik brought his hands to the edge of his shirt, not hesitating for a second before getting rid of the garment. Bakura raised an eyebrow. Perhaps the key was on his body...or he was trying to tempt him...or both.

Marik turned around, offering him a view of the complex scars on his back.

"No noncompliance or arguments? Who are you and what did you do with Marik?"

"Are you going to have a look or not?"

"Surely.”

Bakura clambered through the window and approached the hieroglyphs. The key was more complicated than he had anticipated, and he looked for several minutes. "Done, you can dress."

"Are you sure you want that?" Marik glanced at him in a way that might have been suggestive.

Of course he was tempting him.

Marik liked to play; he played with everything. With people and with cards, with situations and with words, and he also played with Bakura.

Damn him to hell.

"Fuck off. Why did you show me your back?"

"You saved my brother...you saved Odion."

Bakura lifted his eyebrows in astonishment, but was then distracted as his gaze drifted to Marik’s bare chest. "I did it just to have access to the key."

"And now you have it."

Bakura mumbled something that might have been  _ thanks _ ...or it might have been a curse. He didn’t know what to do with his eyes, which were now drifting down to Marik’s abdomen.

_ Kill him. We have what we want; we do not need him. Cut that piece of his back off and let's flee with the key. _

Bakura shoved his hands into the pockets of his black coat and dared to look again into those eyes that shone like sparkling gems. The look penetrated him, made him feel tickly in his lower back. This was bad.

It didn’t bother him too much to feel the sinister demon inside his body; it was his personal damnation, a price that had to be paid. However, the horrible howls went quiet every time he plunged into the depths of Marik's eyes.

Marik was close, close enough to take him by the arm and pull him near enough to feel his body and taste his lips. However, there were things to do, plans to launch, ancient kings to get rid of. But if that damn brat kept looking at him like that...

"You want to kiss me, don’t you? Come on, do it, if you dare."

"I don’t want to kiss you," Bakura grumbled.

"Oh really? Are you sure?" Marik stepped closer. The spirit felt his warm breath on his lips, and clenched his fists tightly to keep his arms in place.

_ You're really close; kill him. _

Marik blew intentionally near his mouth, and the air tickled his nose. Marik started to move his face slowly, eyes half closed, wanting to break Bakura. He was so close to actually kissing him that the spirit tilted his head, seeking access to the other's lips.

It was then that Marik smirked, triumphant, and began to open his lips and move them in a sensual way. Bakura couldn't take it anymore and pressed their mouths together, his breathing coming ragged and his hands sweating inside his coat.

"I feel you shaking, Bakura. You've wanted this since you met me, right?" Marik said smugly, licking his lips.

"Shut your mouth".

"Shut it for me.”

Bakura opened his mouth and pounced on Marik, sighing between unrestrained kisses. He felt the other's tongue drowning him, consuming him in invisible embers.

_ Your flesh is weak, how pathetic. _

The more Bakura felt Marik's mouth devouring his, the quieter the dark murmur became. Around him everything was spinning like a tornado- in the center there was Marik, with his delicious and intoxicating taste, and outside the world was disappearing, and the desperate cries of the demon disappeared in a vertiginous centrifuge, falling into the void. His coat dropped to the floor.

"You're getting me turned on,” the spirit complained.

"Mmmh, I tend to have that effect on people."

"I don’t want to hear that crap."

"I know what you want.”

Hands slipped beneath Bakura’s shirt and slowly lavished his torso with caresses. Bakura gasped. "Nh...Touch me more, just like that."

Marik pushed him onto the bed, where he landed in a careless way. Bakura watched him approach with a feline walk, knowing what was coming. Bakura's nervous hands got rid of his shirt, and then tried without success to open the button of his pants before darker hands pushed them away and with dexterity they opened the garment and made their way to white legs, setting his skin on fire with their touch.

Marik’s hands came back up to do the same with his underwear, and Bakura felt the air brush against his bare crotch. A tingle ran through his body, infusing him with a suffocating heat. Marik’s purple gaze dragged him towards strong sensations he had never felt before. Marik removed his own boxers in a single movement and Bakura moaned just at seeing him. As soon as Marik heard the sound, he leapt on him like a wild animal.

It felt more like a battle, a score settling in bed. Both were gripping each other hard, tearing skin, biting. Their erections met, rubbing, hardening even more. Marik squeezed Bakura’s gently, stroking it a couple of times, and Bakura raised his hips.

"You're enjoying it," Marik said.

"A lot, go on."

"I have many good cards up my sleeve."

Bakura wanted to ask what he meant by that, but then he felt a slippery finger touch his entrance.

No, not that.

"Don’t you dare."

Marik mocked his tone, and then blond hair was suddenly lost between his legs, a warm wetness flooding the place, causing Bakura’s erection to take on an unexpected firmness.

"What the fu…!"

Marik's long tongue began to penetrate him softly, and Bakura grasped the sheets with all his might. He wanted Marik to stop...or not. Then he felt a finger take the place of Marik’s tongue, and Marik looked to him for permission. He nodded, grimacing, and then felt Marik's digit plunge inside, deeper than his tongue had been.

"Marik...AH... Wait...it feels strange."

Marik smiled. "Don’t worry, it's normal; in a moment you'll start to feel incredible.”

Bakura muttered words of disagreement but then Marik hooked his fingers inside, making him scream, causing a whole new feeling to reach his cock; it was like fitting inside a glove.

"Better?"

"It's...strange, but..."

The boy continued to rub at the intimate place, pushing against his prostate with hooked fingers, and after a minute of groans, the hips of the spirit began to thrust.

"How do you know...these things? Another man...taught you...to touch like that?"

"You sound jealous."

Bakura snarled, not angry enough to argue, not lucid enough to want to know who that person was. He could only arch in ecstasy when Marik began to take him to heaven.

"You like this?"

"Oh...yes...I love it...I want more."

Marik stroked the rough, sensitive area. "You're so turned on."

"It’s your fault.”

Marik licked the wet tip of his cock and Bakura made an inhuman sound.

"Put it in your mouth," Bakura gasped.

"And let you finish before the main event? I don’t think so.”

Bakura cursed under his breath.

"Then….put it inside me," he said.

"You don’t need to ask twice."

Marik crawled on top of him. He put his erection in place, rubbing softly against his entrance, and Bakura squirmed.

"You want it, don’t you?" Marik inquired.

"Stop the idiocies and hurry up."

"Say you want it." Marik pulled away a little and Bakura rolled his eyes. Marik was so egocentric- he must have had a crazy amount of insecurity if he needed that much certainty.

"Okay, okay, I want your cock, now put it in already."

Marik nodded, satisfied, and pushed inside with a thrust, at first not penetrating completely, but then the tip entered further and Bakura roared with joy. Fucking finally.

Once more, Bakura felt the invasion of a dominant tongue in his mouth, making it open wide. The combined liquids slipped to the back of his throat- pure poison, he told himself, but a poison that tasted damn good. A vicious bite made his lip split and he felt a stinging pain and a soft metallic taste.

"You miserable brat, you broke my lip."

Marik didn’t say a word; he only licked the wound, moaning, and painted the rest of the pink skin a reddish tone.

"I want to mark your whole being. I want you to not forget me when you leave in the morning. When you go looking for that asshole Pharaoh you will still feel me. Your whole body will remember me. "

"Shut up, when I leave in the morning there will be nothing left of you."

Marik's face changed to a grimace of utter anger. "Listen to me, Bakura, NO ONE can forget Marik Ishtar."

Marik’s mouth latched onto the white skin at the curve between Bakura's neck and shoulder, sucking hard as he thrust even deeper. Bakura writhed with pleasure, moaning louder. It wasn’t surprising behavior from the youngster who had become the leader of a criminal group- his passion was as violent as the other personality that had been dormant within him.

Bakura felt him inside, increasingly deeper. His legs opened wider, seeking to be invaded by more inches, until they were a single trembling body between the sheets.

The constant, hard movement to which he was subjected made him feel that he was going to explode. His hand fumbled for his bouncing shaft so he could give himself release at last. Marik licked his ear, letting out an insolent laugh. "You want to come, don’t you? I'll help you if you shout my name at the end."

"Does it turn you on...so much to hear me...say your name?"

"If you're having the orgasm of your life, yes," Marik agreed.

"Your siblings..."

"Let them know!" Marik shouted. "I'm sick of this farce."

Bakura felt himself on the edge. What was the problem, if he was going to end up screaming the name of that jerk anyway?

"Give me...what I want...and I'll give you...what you want.”

Marik had no trouble reaching Bakura's stiff and needy cock.

"Faster...Marik!"

Marik's rhythm became savage at the mention of his name. There was no doubt, Marik had a strange kink for being the cause of his pleasure, the center of his attention.

"Oh! For all...the damned...gods...Marik!"

A jolt went down Bakura's spine, all his muscles contracting as his climax came. Marik continued to stroke him uncontrollably, and Bakura convulsed at the intense sensations, his member now ultra sensitive. His cries of Marik’s name continued even after the boy had filled his insides with a warm liquid and Marik's own groans flooded the room.

Both were now exhausted, their bodies lax. Marik's prone form was fascinating, angular bronze dunes that seemed carved by the gods themselves. His purple eyes fell on Bakura, for the first time honest and peaceful. When he smiled, Bakura felt himself melting.

"The sky is beautiful tonight," Marik said. Bakura looked behind his back, through the window. Never before had he really had time to admire the sky.

"When I was a child I wanted to flee to the sky. I wanted to grow wings and fly."

Bakura made a strange face. It was five o'clock in the morning after a night of wild sex; it didn’t seem like the best time to start a deep conversation between confidants. A part of him was amused.

_ A weakness, take advantage of it and laugh at his misfortune. Kill him, kill him. _

Bakura just turned to look at Marik again. Speechless, he only clung to his broad shoulders, unable to give him sweet words of encouragement.

"Time is still passing by and wings don’t seem to be coming out my back. It's still passing, and we continue being slaves of the pharaoh.”

"That's about to end."

Marik grabbed his face and kissed him.

"It's destiny that he gets away with it."

"You're just a damn mortal child. What do you know about destiny?"

"I know there's no way the gods will let us win. We were born to have nothing, you and I. We were forged by the same condemned fate. Maybe when all this ends, we'll meet again in the shadows of hell."

"Only humans go to hell."

"Deep down, Bakura, you're also human, you just still don’t remember."

Bakura growled.

Those cryptic words made him shudder. Perhaps Marik could see inside him, beyond what he could see in himself. For him, his own eyes were only empty, bottomless wells. Marik was too mature for his age. The spirit laughed to himself. It would be funny if the boy was a reincarnation like his sister, very funny... Too bad he hadn't known him, or at least didn’t remember having known him- his memory was as holey as an old sack gnawed by rats.

Twilight made its way into the sky and Bakura rose to dress.

They left the house through the door, no longer caring about the noise it would make after such a loud night. Now Bakura could feel it coming, revenge, sweet and as cold as it could have been served. Despite the sleepless night, he was filled with a vital force he had not felt for millennia.

Perhaps his pride no longer mattered; he didn't mind granting a victory to his fellow-combatant for once. After all, there was no one but him worthy of it in this rotten world. Marik was a crossword that he would have liked to take the time to solve, figuring it out letter by letter until he found the key to that twisted mind.

Bakura brushed his hand over the bruise resting at the curve of his shoulder, one of the "loving" caresses Marik had given him, and looked, almost defiant, into those shining eyes. Marik was going to decorate his shelf with the most precious trophy, one of an elusive spirit that no one else could have claimed.

"No matter where this destiny takes me or you, nothing and nobody will erase the memory of Marik Ishtar."

Marik lifted his chin as would an arrogant pharaoh, his face beautiful and distant. He nodded slightly, asserting his words.

There were no _ I love you _ s, there were no goodbyes, there was no room for any sentimentality that would mar their proud natures. Bakura resumed his steps and walked towards his uncertain fate.

 


End file.
